Tortured Owls And Melted Strawberry Ice Cream
by ringerxo
Summary: James and Lily met before Hogwarts, with heavy involvement of junk food. Fluff, slightly AU. R&R!


**A/N**: Thanks so much to my BETA, darklyromantic, who's been my light in the darkest times. And when I say darkest, I don't mean power outages.

* * *

_Children are a great comfort in your old age – and they help you reach it faster, too. -Lionel Kauffman_

* * *

"Harry, love, open wide…" Lily Evans-Potter held a spoon of ice cream up to her infant son. It was chocolate, his favorite; nevertheless, he shook his head from side to side and refused to open his mouth. His face was scrunched up, and he looked like he was going to cry or punch someone.

Lily sighed and leaned back into her chair. She'd been trying to feed him ice cream for the past half hour now, but the only thing that he'd opened his mouth for was to wail. Twice now her neighbors had peeked over the hedge curiously, taking a moment's break from their outdoor barbeque. She couldn't wait for James to get home, and for them to start their own celebratory barbeque for Harry's 1st birthday.

"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" came a cheerful voice from the doorway, and James popped through the screen door from the house into the backyard, carrying bags of charcoal, meats and vegetables. He put it all down by the grill, and leaned down to kiss Lily's cheek. She smiled; she had missed him, even if he'd only been gone for an hour or so.

He then turned to Harry and rubbed noses with him; Harry gurgled and smiled, and then promptly spit up on his father's face.

Lily couldn't help herself; she broke out laughing while James squinted and wiped his glasses on his shirt. He put them back on and looked at Lily, who was doubled up by then, tears streaming down her face and laughing so hard that Harry was in danger of falling from her arms. James caught the little boy and placed him on the blanket on the grass, muttering about "little buggers" and "he learned that from his mother".

Lily abruptly stopped laughing and wiped the tears from her eyes. Narrowing her gaze, she looked at James. "What do you mean, 'he learned that from his mother'?"

James grinned. "Don't you remember when I got my Hogwarts letter and the owl…"

"Crashed into our house instead of yours, yes," Lily finished the sentence for him and grinned. "Those were the days…"

_**Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was doted on by her loving parents; she had everything – including an amazingly pesky next-door neighbor...**_

_Lily Evans sighed. Her 11th birthday was coming up, and she had nothing to show for the 100,435 hours she had lived, except a remarkable skill in mathematics. She excelled in math, but not in much else, and she also had very few friends – in fact, she had no **real** friends. Her books were her only companions through the long summer days now._

_She was sitting in her backyard, picking at the yellowed grass in their front lawn (it had two uniform colors – yellow for summer-spring, and muddy brown for the winter-autumn) and dreaming about their upcoming trip to the seaside, when her train of thought was interrupted by a loud screech and a crash._

_She jumped up and ran to the backyard, unaware that she had stepped in the melting bowl of ice-cream that her mother had brought out for her a few hours back, hoping she would eat it and fill out a little (she looked like a starved orphan at best – at worst, people ran to call [Er, either the NSPCC (The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children), or social services]; the whiteness of her skin didn't improve things a bit)._

_She kept on running, accumulating little bits of dirt and dried grass on the bottom of her shoe that had stuck to the strawberry ice cream, until she arrived at the only thing in her backyard that could make noise – the old swing set._

_It was very old and rusty, as could be seen by the pile of metal it had become as soon as the UFO had crashed into it – or, at least, that was what Lily thought had crashed into it. When she moved some of the crumbing poles, however, she found out that the UFO was, in fact, an owl, and it had a letter tied to its leg._

_Now, Lily didn't get out much, and she wasn't a fanatic, but she had a soft spot for animals, and especially ones with wings; she felt that the more she knew about them and the more she saw them, the more she felt as free as they looked, soaring through the skies with their wings outstretched._

_When she saw the letter, she became righteously indignant – who would dare torture an owl and use it as a messenger bird? Owls were free animals, and no one should treat them that way! She got closer to the owl to check to whom the letter was addressed._

Mr. James Potter

The Kitchen

40 Orchid Drive

Sheffield

_"I'm not surprised," she muttered under her breath. Letting go of the thick, creamy parchment-paper envelope, she cautiously moved the poles from the owl and picked the bird up. It stirred feebly and tried to flap its wings, but apparently, it had no strength left, and he stopped his efforts._

_Lily clucked her tongue like a worried mother hen and went into her house to get a towel. She came back out, gently wrapped the owl up, and marched over to the Potters' residence with a determined look on her face and a resolve that would be very, very hard to break._

* * *

_"Is it here yet?"_

_"No, dear."_

_James Potter fidgeted in his chair and looked down morosely at his plate of lettuce. His mother had recently gone on a health kick, and decided that her family needed to eat more vegetables. Since ketchup did not qualify as a vegetable in her eyes (even though James thought that a President of the United States of America would know better than her, he kept his mouth shut – after all, she was also the one that supplied him with pocket money and food), greens were incorporated into the daily menu, and James and his father were stuck to eating pizza at 3:00 AM every morning in order not to starve._

_The roof of their house had been his home for the past few weeks. James had been sleeping there for quite a while, waiting for the owl to deliver the Letter. His mother had ignored the change in sleeping venue – after trying for ten straight years, she'd given up on attempting to understand her son's antics – and his father had tried questioning his motives. James had refused to answer, knowing that his father would have force him back into his room with various dreadful threats, like not taking him to Zonko's for a whole month._

_So when his mother had gone onto her health food kick, his father had joined him anyways, to eat their nocturnal meals. On July 31st, his father had been stepping on the shingles gingerly with a pizza box in one hand and a flask of whisky in the other, when one of them had cracked. There had been a distinct sound of splintering wood, then he'd fallen through to James' room with a yell._

_His mother, who had been nagging her husband about replacing the roof for years already, didn't mind that much about the cave-in; she'd known it was bound to happen, and she'd been secretly happy because now James Senior hadn't had a choice in the matter._

_When she'd found the pizza, however, all hell had broken loose. She'd sentenced both abashed men to vegetables only for a whole week – no meat, no bread, and no Honeyduke's chocolate! – and forbidden any future forays onto the roof that weren't for the purpose of repairing it. (James Jr. was surly for the rest of the day, but James Sr. was just relieved that she hadn't found the flask.)_

_Now James Jr. was stuck in the kitchen, eating the dreaded health food. His mother was washing dishes; his stomach growled, reminding him that it needed something, even if it was green, leafy and healthy to a fault._

_He sighed and stuffed it down his throat, swallowed and took a long swig of milk, making a face. He tipped his bowl into the sink and ran towards the door – right in time, since the doorbell was being rung insistently and James' mother called for him to get it._

_He ran to the door and fumbled with the deadbolt, a whirlwind of thoughts running through his head –_ It can't be – it comes by owl – who would come in the afternoon? – Merlin, I hope it's not Dumbledore –

_When he finally succeeded in opening the door, he found Lily Evans, the girl from next door, standing on his doorstep with the fires of heaven I kind of think you meant hell, but then again, since he has a crush on her, heaven's quite apt if you think about it... in her eyes and his dad's senile owl, Harry, in her arms._

_"So… why Harry?" Lily asked as she settled the bird down on the Potters' coffee table. James shrugged and answered honestly, "I dunno." He then eyed Lily's shoes and winced; his mother would throw a royal fit if she saw the sticky mud – was that a strawberry? What did the Evans' grow in their garden, anyways? – all over her clean living room carpet._

_Lily let go of Harry, turned around to James and gave him a stern look. "You shouldn't be using him as a messenger," she lectured. "He's an owl, and owls were not created to be pets. NO animal was created that way. So you better let him go before I call the RSPB on you." She turned on her heel and stomped out._

_It was at that moment that James decided that he would marry Lily Evans – after all, ying had to balance out yang, sometime._

_It would be interesting to see who would blow up first._

* * *

James and Lily were giggling, foreheads touching, by the time Lily finished recounting the story. Only then did they notice that twilight was closing in on them, and Harry was gleefully playing with broken-up pieces of hamburger and mustard. Lily and James grinned at each other; Lily picked Harry up, cleaned him, gave him some applesauce for dinner and tucked him into bed, while James cleaned up the barbeque supplies and stored the remaining meats in the freezer. Afterwards, he walked into his and Lily's bedroom and simply looked at his wife. She was stunning – even in the old t-shirt and boxers that had fitted him in 3rd year. The neckline was wide, letting one of Lily's shoulders peek out. He repressed the urge to go and—

Lily sighed. "Sometimes, James, I feel like asking Harry's forgiveness for picking you as his father." James grinned strangely, and the small knot of feelings at the bottom of Lily's stomach went warm.

He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "And every day, I curse that little bugger for getting so much attention from you." He playfully nipped at her earlobe, and she gasped, then giggled.

"Are you _asking_ for something, James Potter? Are you admitting dependency?"

His answer was a growl.

Baby Harry peacefully slept the night away for the first time in his short life, and I'm sure, my dear readers, that Lily and James were eternally grateful to him for that little gesture.


End file.
